Oh, No, We Can't Sit Together at Lunch
by MeowRoar
Summary: Four girls, Aileen, Courtney, Kathleen, and Keely, begin their first year at Hogwarts. They become good friends until the Sorting Ceremony where they are each placed in a different House. One Gryffindor, one Slytherin, one Ravenclaw, and one Hufflepuff.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, everyone! This is my first fanfiction in about five years. We're all very excited. As you know, it is a Harry Potter story. This in no way means I own Harry Potter or anything even remotely interesting. I have a Game Boy Color. That's it. Anyway, the entirety of the HP world belongs to the incomparable J.K. Rowling. **

**This story is set post Harry Potter's time at Hogwarts, but before his itty bitty baby Potters begin running around the place.**

With a crinkly snap and a small puff of dust, Kathleen Mockridge returned _Uncommon Spells of the Nineteenth Century_ by Bartimaeous Billingsley to the shelf in Florish and Blotts. As she turned away with a flick of her dark hair, she noticed a girl about her age frowning thoughtfully at a copy of _Unfogging the Future_. For a second, she appreciated the girl's apparent aptitude for a study not available until a student's third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But her feelings soon turned to a bland form of disbelief as the girl held the book at arm's length with a wildly inappropriately furious expression and said loudly at the pages, "BUT WILL I BE IN GRYFFINDOR? YES OR NO? HELLO?"

Unfortunately, their eyes met just as Kathleen was trying to disgustedly turn away.

The girl's eyes widened in excitement. "Hey! You're a magic person, er, a witch right? You know about magic stuff, right? Who are you, anyway?"

"Kathleen," Kathleen said stiffly. Then, for emphasis, "Kathleen Mockridge."

The use of her surname didn't have the effect she had anticipated; in fact, it didn't have an effect at all.

"Listen," the girl bounded over, holding out _Unfogging the Future_, "can you make this work? I don't know how to do it. I really want to know what House I'll be in at uhm. What's it called? Oh wait, you go to that school right? Like, you know what I'm talking about?"

"Hogwarts?" supplied Kathleen, with one eyebrow cocked. "I don't go there yet, I'll be a firs-"

"Yes! Yeah, gosh, why is the name so weird? Anyway, I got this weird letter and I was like, 'Ha, this is funny,' but it looked really official so I read it again, and you know what, it made a lot of sense. I thought I was going crazy because weird stuff happened sometimes, you know, to me, and the letter was like, 'Oh, no, you're just a magic person,' and I liked that better than the idea of being crazy. And this guy came to my house, he was like, I thought he was, I don't know, he was wearing a suit but he looked _wrong_ in the suit, you know? I mean, the suit didn't _suit_ him and-WAIT OH MY GOD, DID YOU HEAR WHAT I, I DIDN'T EVEN MEAN TO, OH MY GO-"

It was then that the girl, whose name was Aileen McMartin, noticed that Kathleen hadn't been present for anything since, "got."

"Right," Aileen said a little sadly, turning back to replace _Unfogging the Future_ on the shelf. This Kathleen had been the first person her age she'd come across since the man in the suit –Ministry Official, she reminded herself, from the Ministry of Magic- brought her here through a place called The Dirty Cauldron or something.

Naturally, she wasn't as excited as that Mockridge girl probably thought she was. In reality she almost couldn't believe her parents had allowed her to leave the house without them. It was nervousness that sped up her babbling. Her parents seemed to know this man, at least, whom they introduced as, "Richard, from the Ministry" –Ministry of Magic- she mentally corrected again. Before the front door of their comfortingly mundane home closed, she witnessed them share a knowing smile.

It was the same smile, she noted anxiously, that had so frustrated her throughout her life. The smile was there when she was six and somehow refilled her own cup of apple juice without ever going near the fridge. The smile was there when she was eight and her archrival Dennis Fenway suddenly found himself in a frilly pink bunny sweater at her birthday party. And the smile was there when she read aloud the name Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

During the car ride, which also seemed just slightly _off_ somehow, You-Can-Call-Me-Richard had explained to her that she was a _witch_. She had magical powers. Which meant the letter was for real. Which meant she was actually going to a place full of other people who could use magic. Which meant she'd be taking magic-classes or something. While being a witch.

Instantly her mind flipped over to every stereotypical witch thing she'd heard. Witches, she gathered from her collection of information, were old and more often than not, unattractive. Aileen didn't really think of herself as attractive or unattractive, putting more stock into how far she could throw a baseball or how cool she could look in a backwards hat. Maybe this connected somehow.

But then, she realized with a pang, would other girls at the school be unpretty as well? This frazzled her a bit. She liked girls a lot. Especially the pretty ones.

Her eyes snapped to Richard, her mouth halfway open before she even processed how she wanted to phrase this question. What came out was, "Is this an Ugly School?"

Richard laughed for about eight years but never actually answered her. Horrified, she followed him out of the car into the Dirty Cauldron place, through the back, into a brick-walled courtyard, and, after a few taps of his wand on the brick wall, they went _through_ the brick wall -_through the brick wall_- and into this bustling street of _things_.

One thing she quickly realized was that magical people, witches and wizards, were most definitely _not_ ugly. Richard had to grab her by the scruff of her sweatshirt to keep her from following a tall, brunette woman right into a shop.

"You'd like to explore, then?" he said, amused.

"Yes!" she said shrilly.

"Well that's lovely, but you're eleven and we have a specific list to follow." Richard, suddenly serious, whipped the copy of her Hogwarts letter out of his pocket. "We're nearest the apothecary, so let's pick up your potions kit first, shall we?"

And so she stumbled along the streets of what she learned was Diagon Alley, sometimes trotting after Richard into the correct shops, and sometimes having to be forcefully grabbed and steered.

After a few hours that rushed by like the broomsticks Aileen had to be pried away from, Richard offered to, "carry this lot back to the Cauldron, right?" He hitched up a few parcels threatening to spill over onto the street, and added, "Go get your books from Florish and Blotts, yeah? Your list, oh blimey, it's in my pocket, if I can just, oh." It fluttered to the ground where Aileen snatched it up and shot off like a cork. The wrong way, naturally. "And I'll meet you there," he finished to himself.

Presently, Aileen took her hand off the spine of _Unfogging the Future_ where it had lain absently. This book probably wasn't on her list. It looked complicated when she'd opened it and hadn't been at all responsive. But then again, she reflected, maybe the books here were the same as books at home, and had to be patiently read. A quick glance around confirmed her suspicions; everyone she could see was flipping through the books and definitely not shouting at them.

Her eyes caught on a blonde girl plucking a book purposefully from a shelf and checking it against a list. A list a lot like her own. The girl was around her own height too. Maybe this girl was also going to be a first year at Herg… at… at the magic school. She strode over, determined not to mess up this meeting like the one before.

Plus, she wanted to hear the name of her school again.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello again, welcome to chapter 2! I do not own Harry Potter. **

"_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One_."

Courtney Quin, eleven years and eleven months old, tucked a lock of golden blonde hair behind a diamond-studded ear. The stack in her arms had grown quite heavy by now, but she powered through it. There were many tomes of similar weight at home, and… well, she'd never admit it, but she'd been carrying stacks around for weeks in preparation for this day. If there was one thing she wouldn't have, it would be to look like she didn't belong. She was a Quin. A Quin, for Merlin's sake.

"Helloooo," said a carefully measured voice near her elbow, startling her out of her thoughts.

She turned to see a brown-haired girl smiling kind of manically at her.

"Hello," said Courtney cordially, with a pleasant smile in return. This was her first run-in with someone who looked about her age, and she was pleased to find that she fell naturally into the formal manner of speech she'd heard her parents use. "My name is-"

"I'm Aileen McMartin!" The brunette girl thrust out her hand determinedly, effectively cutting Courtney off mid-speech. "Pleasure to meet your magical acquaintance!"

"Er," replied Courtney , ruffled. Clearly this girl didn't have the same background she did. By any stretch. Still, she shook the girl's hand. "My name is Courtney Quin."

Again, the implications of a well-known surname were lost on Aileen.

"You're getting your books for the school year? Are you the same year as me? I'll be a first year." Aileen rattled this all off while trying to peek at Courtney's list.

"Yes," Courtney answered, self-consciously. She didn't like the way this McMartin girl was peering so closely at everything she was doing. It made her feel like she was forgetting something important, like putting her napkin in her lap at dinner. To gain control of the situation, she grabbed the conversation and threw it away from herself. "Haven't you gotten your books?"

She felt a little guilty at the pleasure she took from seeing the other girl look slightly less sure of herself.

"No, that's what I'm supposed to be doing. I have the list but I sort of got distracted by all the books here. Like, see over there? I was looking at the Divinitation-"

"Divination," Courtney corrected automatically.

"Yeah that, because I wanted to know what House I'll be in at Hop… er, Ham…"

"Hogwarts?"

"Yes! Is there a way you know? Are you supposed to know beforehand? Richard, my friend Richard, he was telling me about them on the way here. I've never been here before, by the way. He said there are, uhm, Gryffindor, that's the one I want to be in, and Slitherby, Ravenclaw, and Hupplefluff."

"Slytherin and Hufflepuff, you mean." The blonde girl was enjoying herself now. She liked the way the McMartin girl beamed admiringly at her when she knew something she didn't. This was the way this meeting was supposed to go, she thought to herself. She came from a long line of Pure-Blood witches and wizards, after all, and naturally should know all of these basic facts. She secretly felt this first year would be a snap; why wouldn't it? She had two full-blooded magical parents. She must have loads of talent. She smiled at the McMartin girl now, unable to resist showing off a bit of knowledge.

"You know, each of the Hogwarts Houses means something as well. You know Slytherin? Well, their mascot is a snake, and it was founded by Salazar Slytherin a very long time ago. People who are sorted into Slytherin are naturally ambitious and very smart. If I were to judge, I'd say they're the best sort of people. I mean, can you think of anything better than knowing exactly what your dream is, and being able to get it? Everyone in my family has been in Slytherin, I expect that's where I'll go too." She chose to leave out the part about Voldemort and all of that; that had ended years ago, when she was too young to even realize what was going on. Since this girl obviously didn't know anything about it, it probably didn't hurt to skip over it now.

"Wow! That's amazing, you know so much!" Aileen gasped. "What do you know about Gryffindor?"

"Well…" Courtney wasn't sure how she felt about Gryffindors. From what she knew from her parents, they were the House that got the most attention. Even before Harry Potter was a Gryffindor, her parents said the lions were always obnoxiously showing off, swaggering around the school like they were the absolute top. Of course, she did realize that Slytherin and Gryffindor always had a bit of a rivalry, and so her Slytherin family had an obvious bias against the other house. But still, her loyalty to her dream-House won out. "I think they're overrated."

"How d'you-"

The McMartin girl was cut off by a handsome wizard in fitted robes of a refined cream color. "Hello girls, took me a little longer than I thought, but I couldn't stand to walk around in that infernal suit another minute. Damned thing had no character. Horrible."

"Hi, Richard!" said the McMartin girl happily.

Courtney felt color rising in her cheeks.

Richard smiled kindly down at her. "So, we've made friends, have we? Hello, I'm Richard Crenshaw. I'm a friend of Aileen's parents. What might your name be?"

"Quin," she said quietly. Then, realizing how common that made her sound, she thrust her parents' cool tone into her speech. "Quin, sir. Courtney Quin. Abram Quin is my father."

"Abe?" Richard said delightedly, bringing his hands up to the lapels of his robes. "Your father is Abe Quin? Hell of a guy! He and I work together at the Ministry! Merlin, I knew he had a daughter but I wasn't aware she was a striking beauty such as yourself! How's your mum?"

"She's doing very well, sir," Courtney managed, thunderstruck. _Striking beauty. Striking beauty. Striking. Beauty. I will marry this man and he will be my husband._

"Well, we'll have to get better acquainted another time; I'm helping Aileen here with her supply list. It's her first time in Diagon Alley, you know. Parents are Muggles and all that. Tell your father hello for me! See you later!"

"Goodbye," Courtney whispered, staring after the two as they made their way over to pick a copy of _1,000 Magical Herbs and Fungi_. She found herself disliking the childish way the McMartin girl tugged at Mr. Crenshaw's sleeve to point out a stupid book of silly jinxes. She disliked the familiarity with which she addressed him. _Richard_. _My friend Richard_. And if she'd heard correctly, Mr. and Mrs. McMartin were Muggles? That made Aileen a… No, she'd heard from her parents that using the word "Mudblood" was in poor taste and spoke of a distinct lowness of class.

Muggle-born, then, she thought. Mr. Crenshaw worked at the Ministry though, why would he be showing a lowly- she cut herself off mid-thought. _Muggle-borns are just as important as Pure-Bloods_, she recited determinedly. _Blood prejudice is not a trait of Quins. Muggles are just as important as wizards, and know many things we don't, just as we know things they don't._

These were lessons she'd been taught since she was old enough to know what a Muggle was, but they still felt hollow. How could a Muggle be as important as a witch or wizard? Muggles couldn't do magic. In fact, most grown Muggles didn't even like magic. She recalled hearing from an uncle how an ancestor of hers was (ineffectively) burned at the stake by Muggles for having magical powers. Thinking of this made her feel as if she herself was on fire.

She shook her head, striding purposefully to the counter and setting her books down. She paid the amount due without even thinking about it, and exited the shop, pondering.

Mr. Crenshaw was friends with the McMartins, he'd said. And he must be a very good friend, seeing as how the McMartins were Muggles. And he knew her father, supposedly well. She felt a prickle of dislike as she traced the connection between her family and the McMartins.

McMuggles, she thought suddenly, and giggled.

As she neared the Magical Menagerie to find a suitable pet, Mr. Crenshaw's handsome face floated across her thoughts of blood status and rank. She rewound the moment in Florish and Blotts over and over again. _Striking beauty. Striking beauty. Striking beauty._

Pausing before entering the shop, she had an idea. Annoying as it may be, the McMartin girl had a clear friendship with Mr. Crenshaw. Therefore, she could use her as a link to get to know him better. Maybe one day, when she was a little older, call him Richard, too?

The girl smiled nervously at her own ambition. But then again, she mused, pulling open the door, she was going to be a Slytherin.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Here is chapter three, finally! I'm really getting into the characters now, so it's becoming easier. It's also kind of shocking, because I imagined them differently. Things just happen, somehow, when you write. **

**Also, if you like the story, please let me know! It doesn't matter how long or short a review is, I just love to hear from you guys. **

**Carry on.**

Between the cages of a group of curiously sleek black rats and a non-responsive cream-colored tabby, Kathleen Mockridge debated animals. The letter said she could bring a cat, owl, rat, or toad. Obviously a toad was out of the question. Rats had some potential; they were kind of sneaky and creepy. Kathleen liked sneaky and creepy. But something about them was just off-putting. She bent and stared into their cage, assessing their movements and general personality. Noticing this, the rats instantly began a game of elaborate jumping and rolling movements with an uncanny symmetrical style that ordinary rats could never hope to accomplish.

Kathleen straightened up; that was it. They were arrogant. They were obnoxious, self-promoting little…

_Rat bastards,_ she thought, and snorted.

She turned to weigh the pros and cons of the tabby again. It ignored her entirely. Never had she seen a cat that was overly thrilled to see anyone, but this one's aloofness looked a lot like apathy. How boring.

The menagerie door opened then, causing the little bell near the top to ring briefly. The cat's ear twitched, but otherwise it did nothing.

"Hello, yes, I'm looking for a cat," said a girl's voice near the counter. Kathleen turned with a wry smile to whoever was speaking; they might as well just turn around and walk out right now. The girl she saw reminded her instantly of the rats in the cage.

Not that she was in any way physically off-putting, because she was quite pretty. Her golden blonde ringlets tumbled past her porcelain cheeks, all the way to the middle of her back. She had eyes that were more golden than brown and manicured nails that looked too mature on her small hands. She must be wealthy.

The way she carried herself, though, was what tied her to the tumbling rats. Her back was straight, as etiquette demanded, but she didn't look comfortable. She looked nervous. Kathleen watched as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear; a gesture meant to be nonchalant. It was almost imperceptible, but Kathleen noticed the girl's hand shake. Her voice caught very slightly when she spoke, which was sometimes a little louder than it needed to be. She switched from foot to foot often.

Tired of this pretentious person, Kathleen cast a last look at the cat (a look it did not return) and moved to exit the shop. Her arm accidentally bumped the blonde's purse as she went, earning her a quick glare.

"Sor-" Kathleen started to say, but stopped short with a frown when she saw the look on the other girl's face.

She was actually arching her eyebrow. Spot on, this girl was a rat alright.

"You should look where you're going." There it was again, the forced cool voice that was just a little bit too loud.

"Any four-year-old could tell you not to stand in an entryway," Kathleen replied, keeping her eyebrows arch-free.

This had a satisfying effect on the blonde girl. Her pupils seemed to shudder, moving all over Kathleen's face to actually size her up. If she found her opponent intimidating, she showed it only in a slight clenching of her jaw. The next thing she said, though, wasn't a verbal parry.

"Mockridge."

"I- what?" Kathleen was sure she'd never met this person.

"Your surname is Mockridge, isn't it?" The girl raised her chin, appraising Kathleen in a way that she instantly hated.

"You don't have a reason to know that," said Kathleen, refusing to let this brat feel allowed to ask personal questions.

"Sure I do. My father is Abram Quin. I'm Courtney Quin. My father knows everyone, including your father, who I am quite sure by now is Daniel Mockridge. Half-blood; works at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I've heard about you. Katie, isn't it?" Courtney held out her hand.

"Kathleen." She did not acknowledge Courtney's hand.

"Your family is very respected in the Wizarding Community," Courtney continued, after a somewhat doubtful pause before retracting her hand to rest on her purse.

"I don't really care," the dark-haired girl responded blandly. She flicked her gaze to the door, intending to resume her objective of leaving.

"You should." Courtney's face was suddenly very close to Kathleen's, her eyebrows raised at such disregard for rank. "You should be grateful to be respected. There are very few people above you. Most of those won't stay there for long. You can keep. On. Rising."

The other girl leaned away from Courtney's intensity, which was making her insecurity even easier for Kathleen to see. Courtney didn't move her fervent gaze from the dead center of Kathleen's eyes. It was as if she was talking to herself, no longer seeing anything around her. She stared into Kathleen's eyes the same way she'd stare into a mirror. It was eerie.

"Fantastic," Kathleen offered as a means of excusing herself. Courtney didn't respond, only straightened back up and attached her troubled gaze to the cage of skipping rats.

"Barking mad," she muttered, stepping back into the regular flow of people shopping.

If there was one sort of person she didn't like… Well, it wouldn't do to bother with her. With a snobby attitude like that, Kathleen doubted they'd be sorted into the same House. But there was still a chance that they might. She made a face, rolling her eyes to the sky. She wanted to go to Hogwarts to learn magic, not to discuss circumstances of birth that were beyond anyone's control.

That's when she saw it. A barn owl, probably a young one, from the way it still hesitated slightly as it flew. The bird scanned the crowd below and dove suddenly, flapping its wings awkwardly to slow itself as it alighted on a girl's arm. Kathleen recognized her, she was the one from Florish and Blotts who was shouting at the books.

The sight of her, Aileen, she remembered, lessened the annoyed frown on her face. This girl was an idiot, but she was honest. Shouting at a book. Kathleen snorted again.

She watched her walk away with the owl on her arm, chattering happily to it and a tall wizard in cream colored robes walking with her. She even stumbled once on her shoelace, the owl's flailing wings matching her flailing arms in the struggle for balance. No, she definitely wasn't trying to impress anyone.

Smiling a little, Kathleen headed toward to shop Aileen had just come out of. Eyelop's Owl Emporium. A mottled Great Grey had caught her eye, and was staring at her frankly from the window. As she neared the shop, it seemed to become bored, and turned its head around without moving its body. Kathleen smirked.

An owl would be nice.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: To be as perfectly honest as the most honest thing in HonestLand, this chapter was a gateway chapter. If we never venture into the McMartin's home again, I'll be a happy girl.**

**If you'd like to review, you can tell me things in that review. Also, they had roast for dinner. Roast.  
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The barn owl, Eldin, hooted happily from atop the cabinets in Mrs. McMartin's kitchen.

She cast glances to it between cutting up potatoes. There it was; an owl. And owl in her kitchen. If there was any other sort of sign that this all was real, and her daughter would be leaving to study magic at a school for witches, she doubted if it could be more juxtaposing than this one.

Eldin gave another hoot before awkwardly spreading his wings as much as he could in the small space. His favorite perch had just wandered into the kitchen.

"Mum, when's dinner going to be ready?" The eleven-year-old girl didn't break stride when her owl settled noisily onto her small shoulder. She had in her hand a curious object that hiccupped tiny gold sparks occasionally. Since she got it two weeks ago, her wand left her hand only when she ate, washed, or slept.

Mrs. McMartin considered cooking deliberately slow. Tomorrow morning she and Aileen's father would be taking her to King's Cross station, with Richard along too, of course. And then every dinner until Christmas would be for two.

She tried to imagine what sort of adventures –or perils- awaited her only child at this Hogwarts school. Richard had assured her it was "safer even than Gringotts" but she didn't know what that was. He tried again to explain it, comparing it all at once to an ordinary boarding school, a zoo, and a dream. This only served to make her more nervous.

* * *

><p>Everyone was seated around the table, Mr. and Mrs. McMartin, Richard, Aileen, and even Eldin, who had traded his perch on the girl's shoulder for the back of her chair.<p>

"… and _dragons_ are real too! Did you know that, Dad? You guys must have known that, Richard must have told you. Mom, did you know that dragons were real? Well, guess what's in my wand? It's made of er, ash wood and it's got a real dragon heartstring in it! From a real dragon!" Aileen paused only to stuff her mouth with a roast potato. "Also, the Houses, remember, the Houses I told you about? Richard was in er, Ravenclaw, weren't you, Richard?"

The man nodded, listening to her babble with amusement.

"I met this girl before; she said she'd be in Slith… S… Slytherin because, er, she could do anything she wanted or something like that. And the books, Mum, the books are so big, they're enormous! I don't know how I'll ever remember all of everything that's in, that's in them, they're so big! Also, flying classes! I'll learn how to ride a broom, I saw some incredible-looking onces in Dra, er, Diagon Alley but Richard said first-years normally don't get their own brooms. And dragons are really real!" She shoveled in another mouthful.

The McMartins had heard this same speech about two dozen times already. But each telling got faster and more inarticulate than the last, which meant the girl was getting more and more nervous as the day came. Today, being August 31, was the day of the most frazzled retelling yet. Mrs. McMartin didn't trust herself to speak. Her husband had known Richard Crenshaw since before they were married, but this other world of wizards and magic and _dragons_… It just felt fake. But a quick glance at her daughter's trunk full of spellbooks, wizard robes, and potion ingredients constantly proved otherwise.

* * *

><p>The station was phenomenally normal.<p>

Aileen shot an accusatory glance to Richard, just behind her. He'd said there was a giant scarlet steam engine with the Hogwarts crest on the front. He said there'd be owls flying around and cats getting underfoot. He said there'd be noise and excitement and magical candy. She remembered that part distinctly. And most importantly, he said there are countless other witches and wizards, who'd all be transported to Hogwarts on the same train.

So far, since saying a (rather long, actually) goodbye to her parents, all she saw were normal, disappointing trains, typical dumb pigeons, rubbish, rubbish, and also rubbish.

He put a hand on her shoulder between platforms nine and ten. Aileen and Eldin both swiveled around. In Eldin's case, just his head swiveled.

"What?"

He cocked an eyebrow at her and then looked pointedly at the dividing barrier.

The girl scowled at him, the barrier, then him, then the barrier again. "_What_?"

In answer, the man looked quickly around to be sure they weren't being watched, and then casually strolled, hands in his pockets, right through the barrier. He did not come back out.

Taking this to mean she was supposed to follow, Aileen clenched her tongue between her teeth, narrowed her speckled blue eyes, and made a very obvious beeline for the wall.

She experienced an entirely foreign sense of unreality as her whole body tensed yet kept moving. Her legs kept the same mad, uneven pace all the way through the solid object until she reached the other side.

"You didn't look out for Muggles, you couldn't have been more conspicuous, and what the devil is going on with your face?" Richard startled her, directly on the other side of the barrier and staring disapprovingly down at her, ready with a list of admonitions. "But you have made it to Platform 9 ¾."

"Was I smoke?" Aileen asked breathlessly, remembering to pull her tongue back inside her mouth. "Or was the barrier smoke? Was anything smoke? I smell smoke. Oh, look!" She'd caught sight of the train, wheeling her cart boisterously past Richard and into the throng. She lurched back on her heels sharply to bring the cart to a rough halt before the Hogwarts Express. "It's wicked," she breathed.

"And about to leave," murmured Richard to himself, frowning at his pocket watch. He closed it with a decisive snap. "My dear, this is where we say good-bye."

Aileen ogled up at him. "_Forever?_"

"Yes," he said gravely. "NO. Of course not, in what conceivable way would that be the case?"

"Oh," the girl said, looking down. "Right."

"Yes, well." He stood, towering above her, unsure of what to do next.

She suddenly lashed out with her fist and punched him on the arm. "BYE." She then rattled off down along the platform before anything else could happen. Eldin's excited hooting became lost amidst the kerfuffle.

Richard stood, clasping his arm where she'd hit him. It had been a good punch. "Just like her father, that one."

He allowed himself a smile.

* * *

><p>She was inside the train and therefore invisible to anyone outside it. That made it quite alright that she had her nosed mashed right up against the glass.<p>

First of all, what Courtney saw had horrified her. Right before her eyes, well, right on the other side of the glass which was right before her eyes, she'd witnessed McMartin actually strike Mr. Crenshaw! How could a girl like that even live on the same planet as people like him?

She stepped shortly away from the window, clutching her wand tightly. A few angry red sparks shot from the end. And to think she'd have to pretend to be friends with that barbarian. Her glance shifted out the window to the receding figure of Mr. Crenshaw. The things she did for love.

A long-haired tortoiseshell cat wound around her ankles sinuously. Absently, she picked the cat up and stroked it. "It's not going to be easy, Moria," she warned softly. "But McMartin is the only link we have to Mr. Crenshaw. And when I get older, I'll have to marry someone respected. I have to. Only," she pushed her nose into the cat's soft, dappled fur, "we'll have to teach him to stop mixing with the common crowd."

Moria purred, the soft rumbling comforting against Courtney's cheek. She placed the cat on her trunk and wheeled down along the train, looking for an empty compartment. There were so many people, varying in age from eleven to seventeen. She kept her eyes open as she walked as properly as she knew how, swiftly scanning the inside of the open compartments. Some plain-looking girls, these she tolerated. A few round-faced boys who looked far too short for eleven. These she ignored entirely. It was the good-looking girls she wasn't fond of. A fifteen year old girl she passed sat with her friends, animatedly describing something apparently hilarious. Courtney instantly hated their girlish laughter and wanted to slam their compartment door shut before anyone else could hear it.

Maybe she should get some studying done on the train. She wanted to set herself apart from the crowd early, to let everyone know who was in charge. That is, if she could find a compartment that wasn't partially filled with juvenile morons and lower-class tragedies.

Courtney got more annoyed with each step she took. Toward the back of the train, the students only got older. And somehow, less mature. It was baffling. She finally had to turn around and head back the way she came because some complete berk thought a stink bomb would be an appropriate item to explode on a train. Why weren't these teenage savages anything like Richard?

The blonde girl flounced along self-righteously, flicking her hair as if she had a nervous twitch. If _any_ of that absurdly inappropriate stink bomb got its smell in her hair… Her father would hear about this.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I do not own Harry Potter. And I love reviews. That is all.**

Courtney wasn't the only one affected by the stink bomb.

Kathleen Mockridge kept her lips clamped tightly together to keep from screaming out every hex she'd managed to learn already. She felt as though she should have known better than to assume wizarding children would be any different from Muggle children. Well, they sort of were. After all, Muggle children didn't have quite this caliber of stink bombs. She wasn't even anywhere _near _the bomb, how could its range be this far? The thought was punctuated by a strong waft of rotten eggs and, what, old meatloaf? This called for one of her father's favorite swears.

"Merlin's. _Balls_," she hissed, making a snap decision. Throwing her entire body suddenly to the side, she blasted into a compartment that seemed empty, dragging her trunk inside and behind her, perching her owl's cage onto it, and whipping the door shut. It slammed satisfyingly, and the noise level from outside dropped considerably. Behind her, her great horned owl, Proserpine, hooted an alert. Kathleen turned, suddenly wary.

Sitting on the seat near the window was… someone already sitting on the seat near the window. "Er." Kathleen couldn't think of anything to say, which was a first. In the following silence, she wondered why she'd only ever had run-ins with girls so far. One idiot, one brat, and one person whom she had rudely intruded on.

The girl looked at her mildly, almost disinterestedly. "I'm Keely. I'll be a first year. You can sit down."

"Oh. Right, thanks," Kathleen shot a look to Proserpine through the bars of her cage, who looked infuriatingly smug at her faux pas. Ignoring this, she plucked up Proserpine's cage and shoved her trunk onto the overhead shelf. Now, where to sit? She finally plunked herself down next to Keely, just to show she didn't feel stupid. She'd be damned if she'd allow Proserpine to give her that stupid look again.

"Sorry I slammed your door shut and barged in, I'm Kathleen Mockri-"

"KATHLEEN, I THOUGHT I SAW YOU RUN IN HERE!" The door banged open to reveal the idiot herself standing there. She smiled alarmingly, thrusting forward the arm a barn owl perched on. "This is Eldin, you guys, he's my owl! He's really smart!" Without waiting for an invitation, she dragged her trunk into the compartment, stored it above their heads, and threw herself lengthwise along the empty seat across from the girls. The owl hooted softly down to Proserpine from where he perched near Aileen's trunk. She beamed across the aisle at Keely. "Hi, who're you?"

"Keely," the girl said simply.

"Alright." Aileen accepted this, nodding amiably. "I'm Aileen McMartin."

Kathleen, somewhat annoyed, went and slid the door shut again. "Shouldn't your owl be in a cage?"

"Should he?" Aileen glanced up to her owl, surprised. "I don't think so." She looked at Kathleen as though she were a bit dull. "I already told you, he's really smart."

Kathleen cocked an eyebrow just slightly, leaning back in her seat. "Fine." This would just be what she'd have to deal with. Besides, it could be worst. She could be sitting with Quin. _That_ would be the worst bloody thing. She glanced at Keely. The other girl had brown hair like Aileen's, but it was a touch darker and longer. She appeared bored. Or perhaps she was just naturally quiet. When she looked back to Aileen, she found the girl staring at her. "Er-"

"My parents aren't magic, so I don't know, but… does this train fly or something?"

Kathleen was starting to feel that this girl didn't stare out of a judgmental nature. She stared because she was curious. Kathleen supposed she could let her guard down; she didn't seem to be a threat. Just sort of dumb.

"It does not," she replied resignedly. "The magical world is fantastic, but it's still very practical. Try to think of it as the Muggle world, only individual people have…" she searched for the words, "more literal talent."

Aileen furrowed her brow, thinking. "So… Could I make this train fly?"

Kathleen barely cut off a sigh. "At your level, no. But in general, yes. You could. Think about minor things right now. You're a first year, so we'll be learning things like levitating feathers. We'll probably Transfigure small objects into other small objects. The potions we make will be simple ones with effects that aren't too horrible. As we progress in years, we'll be able to affect the world around us more and more. See? The more dangerous the magic gets, the harder it is to do."

At the phrase, "affect the world," the Muggle-born girl's eyes were practically popping out of her head, so Kathleen added quickly, "Unless affected by very powerful enchantments in limited areas, physics are the same. Gravity is the same. Relativity is the same. Magic isn't terrifying, it's just useful. Really, really useful."

"I didn't say I was scared!" Aileen said quickly. Yet Kathleen noticed that she'd crossed her arms, each hand gripping the material of her jacket sleeves tightly. "So, nothing really bad is going to happen." She said this more to herself than to Kathleen or Keely.

The dark-haired girl looked at her, thinking. Aileen appeared deep in thought. Really deep in thought, though, not "You shout at books, right?" thought. Her eyes were focused inward, probably not even registering herself, Keely, or any of the compartment. For a moment, Kathleen really imagined what it would be like to live a Muggle's life, perfectly free of anything supernatural. And then one day, something in the post -the ordinary non-magical post- comes and you're completely changed. Of course, she reflected, you already would have had the magical ability. The letter didn't decide that. It was the same with almost every other thing, she thought. Cause and effect was a very misunderstood business. Basic concepts like that were strange enough. Top that off with magic, and you've got… Kathleen suddenly remembered something Aileen said in Florish and Blotts. "_I thought I was going crazy because weird stuff happened sometimes, you know, to me, and the letter was like, 'Oh, no, you're just a magic person,' and I liked that idea better than the idea of being crazy."_

"Can… people, when they've died, can they come-"

"No." Kathleen cut across her before she could even finish the thought. "Death is still final. Of course, there are some ways you can prolong life."

"How?" Aileen asked, pulling her knees to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her legs with an expression both worried and fascinated.

"It sort of goes into Dark Magic from there. And, I don't really know much about it." This was a lie, of course. Kathleen probably knew more about Dark Magic than most of the fifth years on the train. It wasn't because she was a dark person. She just liked to know everything she could. And the fact that it was a sort of taboo subject just made it that more delicious.

She used to childishly think she knew everything, devouring the spellbooks and historical tomes in her family's library. Her world was magic before she ever showed her first spark of the stuff. The entirety of her existence was swimming in strange characters, unpronounceable incantations, weird and exotic plants, and magnificent beasts. She couldn't do everything in the books, of course. She didn't have the means. But she read and reread until she grasped at least a very rudimentary understanding. By the age of eight, she figured herself a renaissance man in a good size of the different manifestations of magic. Until that fateful day when she idly picked up the copy of _Hexes of Scandinavia_. Leafing through the old books with the tattered, stained pages passed many afternoons in the Mockridge estate. The spells in them were old, with harsh-sounding names that she wouldn't even try to whisper. Coupled with the illustrations, it was something to make her pause. There were things here she hadn't even heard of. Honestly. She never knew magic could be used in this way. Normally she spent her time reading and reviewing spells and potions she already knew of. But to come across something that wasn't even in her mind at all… That was something else. This particular book, even… felt _alive_. Like there were still residual wisps of some insidious magic imbued in the old words. They had probably been used to perform the spells and curses they described. When she fully realized this, she'd slammed the book shut in horror. It had sat untouched on the table where she'd left it for months after that.

But then she'd gone back to take one more peek. Then another. Then another. It was awful, yes. Terrible, grotesque, heinously unnatural magic. But what was it about it that made it unnatural? Nothing, she decided. It was simply magic used in a certain way. Like how some spells were designed for levitating an object, there were potions designed, when coupled with an elaborate ceremonial enchantment, to lace one's own blood with certain rare plants to allow the user to split their consciousness between their own body and one host, living or dead. It was just another way to work things out with magic. Reading the steps of these complicated, cultish procedures, Kathleen had to agree that the practicality was still there. One thing would augment another, something counterbalanced something else, and it all made sense according to the fundamental laws of magic that she already knew. Really, Dark Magic wasn't dark at all, just… less tasteful than spells you'd normally cross in society.

She wasn't an idiot though, and knew better than to go prattling them off to the first person she came across. She watched Aileen struggle to retie an undone shoelace.

_Not that they'd even understand a word._


End file.
